Because I attended an all girls’ school, our high school swim team would join an all boys’ school for swim meets. This is the obvious explanation as to why the swim team was one of the most popular sports to join at our school. Swimming with the men’s team was a definite perk. After spending all day locked inside a classroom being tortured by teachers who hated me, I immensely enjoyed changing sceneries and surrounding myself with half naked boys with superior bodies. Although my father constantly, and I mean constantly, reminded me I was there to compete and not flirt, I always thought it was healthy to have some down time in between events. Although I enjoyed having these boys around, being around good-looking boys also has down falls; it also lead to incredibly embarrassing moments. Unfortunately, I suffered the majority of these ill-fated occasions.
One awful day the hot man Gods turned against me. It all started because our bus was extremely late to the all boys’ school where we were racing. We were pressed for time and scrambling to get ready before the meet. Because there were so many girls trying to squeeze into a tiny little locker room right next to the pool, my coach suggested my friend, Emily, and I use the woman’s restroom adjacent to the baseball field.
As Emily and I shuffled over to the bathroom, we were greeted with the school’s baseball team waiting for their bus. When you’ve been at a school with only girls all day long, you become delirious and believe every boy you see is attractive. Literally, the cast of “The Big Bang Theory” would be seen as Greek Gods after a day at school. So when Emily and I saw a swarm of baseball guys clad in their uniforms, we swooned, we sighed and we just about passed out from giddiness. Using our obvious girl’s logic, we pretended not to notice them. We acted like we were just pushing past them to the restroom without acknowledging their presence, all the while eyeing every single one of them carefully.
Once we got in the restroom, we were rushing because we wanted to walk past the group of boys again. As soon as we got our swimsuits were half on, we bolted. We confidently strode out the door, knowing they were staring at the two blondes suddenly wearing swimsuits in the middle of an all boys’ campus. I was feeling fantastic, confident and…suddenly I heard,
“Hey…uh, you, uh dropped something?”
Emily and I turned. On the ground between the baseball guys and us were not just my underwear, they were my Sesame Street Cookie Monster underwear. I know what you’re thinking, why was a high school girl wearing Sesame Street underwear? They were comfortable. No one but I was EVER meant to see them. I couldn’t handle it. So I did the only logical thing there was to do,
“No I didn’t.”
All right, that was the least logical thing I could have possibly done, ever. But I could not let myself admit that the stupid underwear were mine. I was in denial. How could this be happening?! Sadly, the stupid kid would not let the subject go.
“Uh…. I saw it fall out of your bag….”
I had no idea I was up against such an intense prosecutor. But every millisecond we stood there, I felt myself shrinking and turning more and more red. All the baseball guys around us were watching the interaction, which made me feel even more pathetic. I kept my act up, still in denial that something so awful was happening.
“No you didn’t.”
At this point, I have no idea why I didn’t just take the underwear and run for dear life. If I had just picked up the underwear, I could have been back at the pool already, cradling myself in a small ball trying to disappear. But instead, I moronically committed to my plan of being in complete denial, when it was quite evident the underwear had fallen out of my bag.
Then the kid did something unexpected: he picked up my underwear. He held them by the very tips of his fingers and extended his arm straight out as far away from his body as humanly possible. I could not help but gasp. Was it really necessary that he hold my underwear up for the entire world to have a better view?
He held my underwear like he was afraid it was going to disease or harm him in some way. Look, I understand touching other people’s underwear is gross, but I hadn’t shit my pants and I certainly don’t look like I have terrible hygiene. Further, he could not have been afraid of contracting STDs from the Cookie Monster underwear. Those clearly do not scream “scandalous girl alert!” I’m not sure if it was my imagination, or if it actually happened, but I remember all the other baseball players taking a step back, as if they were also terrified of the underwear.
I had to give up my act of denial.
“Oh, ha-ha. I forgot I wore those today! Thanks!”
That was an awful cover, I thought to myself as I literally took my underwear and ran. I didn’t make eye contact with any of the baseball guys that had watched the entire encounter while I grabbed the dreaded undies out of the jerk’s hand. For the first time in my life, I was at a loss of words and Emily and I didn’t talk the entire way back to the pool. But as soon as we got out side of the entrance, she reminded me that I was still nervously clutching my underwear in my hands.
“Hey, I think enough guys have seen your underwear today. Maybe you should put those away?”